


Beginners Guide to Thieving - Abandoned!

by The_Captain



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M, Flirting, Friends With Benefits, Guild shenanigans, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Snapshots, Sort Of, Thieves Guild, mostly complacent to the questline with some alterations, story telling
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-22
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2019-03-08 00:59:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 13,301
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13447143
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Captain/pseuds/The_Captain
Summary: This story is officially abandoned, with a rewrite currently in the works. Read the new story with the same title rather than this one. I'll be keeping this one up for posterity.Brynjolf didn't pick her off the street because she was attractive, attention drawing or even particularly good at thieving. But there was something there. A spark that the Guild needed.Mera joins the Thieves Guild to get away from her responsibilities. Maybe she's bitten off more than she can chew.





	1. Chapter 1

It was foolish for him to worry. The lass had shown herself to be capable so far, and he hadn't even invested much in her yet. The worst that would happen, should she never return, is he would get a pointed “I told you so” from Mercer, and they find someone _else_ to do the Goldenglow job. Again.

Yet he worried. It nagged at him, as Mera climbed out of the Cistern in her new Guild armor, up the ladder that lead to the graveyard to go sneak her way through a death trap over some honey.

Gods, she couldn't even plant a simple ring on the damn elf, how was she supposed to pull this off?

“You better hope she comes back, Brynjolf,” Mercer said, his tone as angry as ever. “Or I'm sending _you_ next.”

It was a empty threat. They both knew Mercer wouldn't. Brynjolf practically ran the guild whenever Mercer was too busy pouring over plans to take care of the day to day. And, even if Mercer did send Brynjolf, the practiced thief could handle himself just fine.

Brynjolf simply shook his head, eyes darting back to the ladder one last time before he headed back towards the Flagon for a drink. The lass had better come back. He was counting on her to.

Mera came back, of course she came back, dropping into the Cistern without grace. Had she not caught herself so well, he would have assumed she fell down the ladder. Brynjolf strode over to where she was, a congratulations on his lips before he found himself stopping short.

The lass limped heavily, favoring her right side and she was _soaked_ , dripping water with each step she took all over the floor. From his desk, Mercer looked up, the scowl already clear on his face. She’d failed, and he had made himself perfectly clear. Get the job done, or don’t come back.

Brynjolf watched as Mercer Frey strode over like a sabercat, looking angry, deadly, and Brynjolf hurried his steps, aiming to intercept. He got to her just as Mercer did, and Mera pushed back her shoulders, straightening her back as she looked up at the Guild Master like a soldier. As if that would save her.

“Lass, you made it back,” Brynjolf said, but Mercer cut him off.

“I thought I told you I wanted-”

The lass cut him off, extending one sopping hand that held a note that was drier than anything on her. “This was in the safe at Goldenglow.”

Mercer snatched it from her, opening up the piece of parchment and scanning the writing. Mera watched Mercer, and Brynolf watched Mera. She was breathing hard. Had she run here? It must have been pouring if she had.

Beside him, Mercer tensed, eyes going wide and fist clenching at his side. In all the years that Brynjolf has known him, Mercer had always been hot-headed. Fiery and volatile, anything could set him off. Without a word, Mercer thrust the note into Brynjolf’s hand, and Brynjolf was quick to read it.

“Aringoth sold Goldenglow? What is he playing at, cutting Maven out of a deal. She’s not going to be happy.”

“Very observant of you, Brynjolf.” Mercer took the note back. “I’ll have to meet with Maven about this, see what she says.” He turned and started walking towards his desk.

“Are you forgetting something, Mercer?” Brynjolf asked, gesturing with his head to the lass who still stood beside him.

“What, do you want me to pat her on the back? Or perhaps congratulate you for finding someone who can do the job? Get back to work, Brynjolf.”

“Whatever you say, boss.” Brynjolf turned back to face Mera straight on, frowning heavily. Up close, he could see the extent of the damage done. She kept most of her weight on her right foot, and her face was bruising up something nasty with a cut into her lip. “What did you do, charge in there like some sort of honorbound sell sword?”

“I got the job done, didn’t I?” She asked, a glare in her blue eyes. “Speaking of which…”

“You’re pay, I know. We’ll get to that. Are you seriously hurt?” He grabbed her by the upper arm, leading her to the bench near where they kept the alchemy station. He wasn’t much of an alchemist, but they kept potions over there for these sort of situations.

“No, I’m fine. I don’t understand why you’re so-”

He cut her off, yanking her a bit more roughly by the arm so that they were closer. Her head only came up to just above his chin, and he had to lean over to get his meaning across. “The Guild has invested in you, now. I’ve brought you in, so you’re my responsibility. What you do reflects on me. Understand me, lass?”

That spark that he saw in her eyes that day in the market was there. A strength of spirit, an urge to fight and a resistance of authority. It’s how he pegged her in the first place as someone perfect for the job. It all flashed behind her eyes, and he could see words welling up inside of her before she visibly swallowed them back down.

“Yes, _sir_.” She practically bit the words at him, and a half smirk pulled at his lips.

“Good. I’m glad we understand each other. Now sit down and stay put. You’re dripping all over the place. What happened, get caught in the rain?”

“I swam back…”

“You swam.” Brynjolf shook his head. “Alright, well don’t move. I’m going to go look for a healing potion.”

“You better bring me a bottle of mead with it.” She muttered under her breath, and Brynjolf couldn’t help but laugh.

“I’ll see what we have around.” He said as he turned away, just barely catching the smile on her bruised face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you all enjoyed this! I've been wanting to delve more into their 'relationship' for some time. I'll probably switch back and forth between perspectives when the mood takes me, but I've been dying to write something from Brynjolf's perspective since I've starting writing these stories.


	2. Chapter 2

Mera was making waves. In the week since the Goldenglow heist, she’d made the Guild quite a lot of coin, successfully completing several jobs throughout the Rift. Brynjolf had instructed Vex and Delvin to specifically only give her jobs that were close, for now. Mercer wanted her close, in case he needed her to follow up on the Goldenglow incident. 

The lass was a natural. 

Brynjolf eyed her as she made her way across the Cistern, stopping in her tracks with her whole body tensing as if she saw a ghost. Brynjolf frowned, knitting his eyebrows together and peeling himself off the wall. Odd. Very odd. 

Mera turned abruptly, walking to the water where Etienne Rarnis sat, dangling his feet over the edge. Hesitantly, she placed a hand on his shoulder, and the man nearly jumped out of his skin. 

Etienne had been…  _ off _ since his ordeal. He claimed to have been kidnapped, and had the man not been so obviously shaken, Brynjolf might not have believed him. After all, who would want to take a man like Etienne. He was skilled enough as a thief, sure, but hardly someone to make waves. 

Brynjolf continued to frown as Mera appeared to say something to him, and slowly lower herself to sit beside him. 

Did they know each other. Etienne seemed to recognize her because after a moment, a smile broke out across his face. They started talking, quietly amongst the two of them, and Brynjolf couldn’t help but feel curious. 

He wasn’t second in command of the Thieves Guild because Mercer thought he was pretty. Brynjolf could be quiet, sneaky, and move around without drawing too much attention. He walked with confidence, the way he normally would, across the center of the Cistern and to the other side, nearing where Mera was having her chat. Luckily, they were chatting near the practice dummies in the water, and Brynjolf busied himself pretending to watch Niruin fire arrow after arrow into the heart of his target. 

What he did manage to catch of their conversation puzzled him. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t mention it,” Etienne said quickly. “What you did for me, I’ll never forget it. I owe you one.” 

Mera’s voice sounded kind when she spoke back, softer than he expected from her. “Don’t worry about it, Etienne. You don't owe me anything. Let's just keep it quiet, okay?”

“You have my word,” he swore, and Brynjolf found himself even more puzzled than he was before. 

People didn't join the Thieves Guild for being the most honest individuals. Pasts were often kept secret, details were left out, all for one reason or another. But it wasn't often that a single secret branched out from one Guild member to another. He'd have to admit, he was curious, and achingly so. 

As Mera stood, he pretended to be surprised to see her. “Ah, good to see you, lass.” 

“Likewise,” she said casually, smile playing at her lips. “Any news about what Mercer's been keeping me close for? Any jobs?” 

He shook his head. “No, not yet. But I'll let you know as soon as you do.” Brynjolf looked her over. “...Your face is healing well.” 

“It was just a few bruises, nothing I can't handle,” she rolled her shoulders, trying to make herself look bigger in a way that was almost endearing. Almost. 

“Aye, but they do look suspicious. People might start to wonder if you're hiding something.” 

Her eyes darted to Etienne and then back to him. “I don't have anything to hide,” she said, and he would have believed her if it weren't for her sideways glance. 

“No sense giving people a reason to ask, lass.” 

Mera frowned up at him. 

“Brynjolf!” Mercer shouted from his desk, beckoning him over. 

He shot Mera a smirk. “Duty calls. Keep up the good work, lass,” he called over his shoulder as he went over to see what the Guild Master could possibly want. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be much longer than this, I promise you, and I'll get back into Mera's head for that, too. But for now, enjoy some suspicious Brynjolf! 
> 
> I always liked the idea of Etienne and the Dragonborn being friends due to the circumstances of their meeting. Friends who escape the Thalmor Embassy and fight a frost troll together stay together after all!


	3. Chapter 3

She needed a drink. 

Mera’s eyes moved around the Flagon, looking for a place to sit herself, until she saw Delvin, waving her over with one arm. She walked over to him, taking a sip from her bottle as she did. 

“What's up Delvin? Have a job for me? Because I don't think I'll be picking any locks for a day or two.”

The Breton grinned. “I always have jobs for you, but that's not what this is about. Come, have a drink with an old man.” She eyed him suspiciously, sinking into the chair opposite him and he scowled. “Quit looking at me like that. I don't bite. Well, not unless I'm asked too.”

Mera snorted. Was that what he wanted? She had half a mind to teach him a lesson, but then he laughed. 

“Oh come on now, I'm only joking. I am a man of taste, and there ain't anything tasteful about someone as old as me shaking up with someone half my age.” 

“Half your age, huh?”

“I'm estimating.” He shrugged. “Now, down to business.” 

“I thought you said this wasn't business,” Mera accused with her bottle at her lip. 

Delvin shook his head. “Not in the proper sense, no. But you've been here what, two weeks now? And you haven't died or gotten thrown in the slammer yet, and you've made more gold than some of these lollygaggers have made in a month. I think it's safe for me to invest a little time in you know. I like to know who I'm doing business with.” As he spoke, Delvin grabbed a bottle of wine off the table and poured it into a tankard. She was still suspicious, but from what she could tell, Delvin was miles friendlier than Vex was, and he'd been good for advice so far. Perhaps there really was no ulterior motive. “So, Mera, you’re not from Skyrim, are you?” 

She squirmed a bit in her seat. “How did you guess?” 

“If you're this damn good at thieving we would have heard of you years ago. Or you would have heard of us, and looked a lot less like a babe in the woods, stumbling into the thick of things with Brynjolf leading you around.” 

Mera scowled, and took a sip to hide her annoyance. “Brynjolf does not lead me around.” She muttered. 

Delvin held up one hand. “Easy, darling, I'm not trying to start a fight about it. What I mean is, you probably would have made it here on your own without being picked by a… talent scout, so to speak.” 

She accepted that, pushing the heat that threatened to rise in her back down. No need to get aggressive. 

“My follow-up question, if you don't mind, how long have you been in this frigid province?” 

Mera thought. She could answer honestly, or she could lie. Lying wasn't preferred, should they find out she was it could escalate a lot faster than just a simple omission. So she shrugged. “Seven months? Maybe? I've lost track at this point.” 

Delvin looked her over before she nodded. “I've been here for around forty years now, been in the Guild for almost as long as that. You'll find this to be a surprising substitute for a family, even if half of them would rob you blind.” 

Mera smiled, pleased to see he was sharing information as he got his questions answered. It felt less like a conversation and much more like two people simply getting to know each other. She had to admit, Delvin was interesting. He was older, much older, and carried a load of experience and advice. He was almost like Kodlak, in his own way. 

If Kodlak were an old Breton thief. The thought almost made her laugh. 

“Alright,” she reached for an apple on the table and bit into it with a loud crunch. “Let me ask you a question. Why did you come to Skyrim?” 

“I've been a thief all my life. My da was a thief, so was my mum. But what passes for a guild in High Rock was nothing compared to what Skyrim had at the time. So I came here. What about you?” He leveled a look at her. 

Mera shrugged, “Honestly, wasn't really my choice. I got nabbed at the border of Cyrodiil when I got caught in the middle of an Imperial ambush. I woke up on a cart headed to Helgen, prepped for the headsman's block.” 

“My, my,” Delvin leaned in across the table, his dark eyes filled with a spark of curiosity. “And how did you manage to get away from- Brynjolf!” Delvin stopped himself mid sentence as the ginger walked through the Flagon. 

“Delvin, Mera,” he greeted with a bottle in his hand. “Lass, I heard about that job you did in Windhelm. Nice job.”

Mera let herself smile at the compliment before shaking her head. “You wouldn't believe how much of a pain it was getting it done, but it's finished.” 

“Done and done right. That's all we ask.” He turned, like he was about to walk away, when Delvin spoken up. 

“Now wait just a second, Bryn. Pull up a seat! Have a drink. We're having some very interesting conversation.” 

Brynjolf turned back to face them, a wiry smile on his lips. “Alright, alright. I can take a break for a few.” He took a seat between them at the side of the table, settling in. 

Delvin turned his full attention back to Mera. “So, where were we… ah, that's right. Helgen. Headsman. Now, Mera, don't hold out. How did you get away?” 

She darted her eyes between Delvin and Brynjolf, who was now also leaning in, interest clearly peaked. “That sounds like quite the tale, lass. I'd like to know.” 

To give her something to do with her hands, she brought her bottle back to her lips. As she drank, she took the time to think. Like, or tell the truth? 

“I was there when the dragon attacked the city. That's how I got away,” she said as Brynjolf was mid sip, and she felt pleased when he sputtered on his drink. 

“Get right out of town.” Delvin laughed, “when you said Helgen I suspected but… well, can't say I ever expected to meet someone who survived that bloodbath.” 

“Someone had to live to tell the stories. Both Ulfric and General Tullius did, some of the smaller people had to get out, too.” 

“That's a story I'd love to hear.”

“Me as well, lass. Think you could tell it?” 

Looking at the two of them, she realized she had their full attention. It was nice, and much, much more like what she was used to in dealing with the Companions, a group of people who respected her. 

She took a deep breath. “I need to be a lot drunker - a  _ lot  _ drunker - before I'll have it in me to tell that story. 

“Well that can easily be arranged!” Delvin exclaimed, shouting across the bar. “Vekel! Another round, if you please!” 

Mera couldn’t help but grin. This was dangerous, she knew that much, but she couldn’t help but feel giddy at the prospect of  _ bonding _ with her new… friends? Family? It didn’t matter. She was ready for it. 

* * *

 

Brynjolf watched Mera as she wobbled. “Alright, alright, alright, alright…” She slurred, lifting her hands. Beside her, Delvin laughed nudging her as her eyes drooped. “I’ll tell you what happened.” 

“About time. I thought I was going to have to cut you off.” Delvin said, and Brynjolf shook his head. The old man had orchestrated it perfectly. He’d probably only had about half as many drinks as the lass. 

Brynjolf was surprised, really, by how much it actually took to get her to this point. She’d been buzzed for a while, but for her size, she held her liquor surprisingly well.

“You’re only thinking of that now?” Vex scoffed from across the bar. “You should have done that two drinks ago.” 

“Now, Vex, the lady asked me to get her drunk, so get her drunk I did,” Delvin defended against the look of pure annoyance Vex was shooting him from where she sat with Sapphire and Tonillia. As the night had progressed, more members wandered in from jobs or from the Cistern, ready for a drink or two to wind down the long day. It was typical, happening most nights down in the Ratway with tonight being no exception. 

When the Guild was still doing well, Mercer would even pop in from time to time, but Brynjolf wasn’t sure he’d seen the man enjoying a drink at the Flagon for years by this point. 

“Clearly,” Niruin spoke up, sounding amused, drawing Brynjolf back into the present. “She looks like she’s going to fall over.”

Mera, apparently, took offense to that, waving him off with a scoff. “Puh- _ lease _ ,” She drew out the word. “This,” she gestured to the several empty bottles before her, “Is nothing. This one time I got challenged to a drinking contest in Windhelm and I, ah, that’s, heh, a story for another time.” Her words tapered off at the end, losing her gusto. “But I did pr, promise Delvin a story if he got me drunk.” 

“A story, huh?” Vipir asks, turning his attention from the stool at the bar to the table where Brynjolf still sat with Mera and Delvin. 

Mera nodded, and Delvin put an arm over her shoulder. “Mera says she was in Helgen,” 

That caught the attention of quite a few people in the bar. 

“Helgen? Her?” Vex snorted and Sapphire laughed. “I don’t believe it.” 

“Believe it!” Mera fought against their teasing. 

“That’s a story I’d like to hear.” Cynric now turned to face them too, nudging Thrynn who sat on the other side of him.

“Looks like you’ve got an audience, lass.” Brynjolf said as he lifted his tankard to take a drink. Looking around, most of the Flagon had their eyes on the lass, looking a mixed of curious or amused. Etienne, watched, too, from where he sat alone and off to the side, a small frown on his lips.

Without warning, Mera stood up, and Brynjolf nearly jolted to his feet in case he had to catch her, but she only wobbled for a moment before straightening out. Then, she climbed up, on top of her chair for a vantage point. He eyed Delvin, who also looked momentarily nervous, before she was steady enough that he believed she wouldn’t fall.  

“Okay, okay,” She slurred, shaking her head wildly. “I’ll tell it.” 

“This I  _ have  _ to hear.” Vex rolled her eyes, clearly not expecting there to be any truth to her tale. To be honest, Brynjolf wasn’t too sure himself, either. 

Mera closed her eyes for a moment, like she was remembering. “So, I wake up on this cart, right?” 

Brynjolf listened. And he had to admit, her story had detail, and even drunk as she was, she told it well. She build up suspense, talking about how confused she was when she woke up, how she got put in a cart with Ulfric Stormcloak himself, how Ralof, who was a “sweetie” by her account, had offered words of comfort as they neared the end of the line. 

“So then they call me, me! Up to the block. I’m not even on their list and they put me up next,” Mera scowled, her expression animated with a pout. She hopped down from her chair (Brynjolf nearly jumped up again at that), and after a moment's wobbling, walked up to the bar. “And, here I am. With my head on the block, looking up at the fat ugly fuck whos about to cut off my head.” At the bar, she leans over, and lets her head fall onto the surface with an almost audible thump between where Niruin and Cynric were sitting, both of who looked thoroughly amused.  

“And then what?” Niruin goaded, looking down at her. 

“Then, he lifts the damn axe and I really think I’m done for.” She lifts one arm up, putting her hand in the air and moving it towards her. “Until a dragon flies in from the mountain and lands on the watchtower!” 

Mera whips her head up, moving to stand upright and stumbling backwards for a moment before Cynric and Niruin both grab at her shoulders, holding her upright until she stabilizes herself. 

“So the dragon came in? Just like that?” Rune asked, soft voice piping up. She turned to face him and nodded vigorously. 

“Knocked the headsman right off his feet.” 

“What was it like?” Brynjolf found himself asking. Mera turned to face him. “The dragon, lass. What was it like?” 

For a moment, he saw a dark emotion enter her blue eyes, and her whole demeanor changed. “It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.” She said, sounding more sober than before. Then, she visibly shook herself, and continued, speaking loudly once again to entertain the room. “I mean, he was huge. Bigger than a mammoth. And black as night. And he shouted at the sky and it rained  _ fire _ .” 

“Fire?” Tonillia asked, and Mera nodded. 

“Fire!” 

“From the sky?” Thrynn repeated, and Brynjolf couldn’t tell if he was simply instigating or truly curious. 

“From the sky!” She confirmed. “Ralof yanked me along into the keep. Honestly, it’s all a blur. I saw it grab a man, fly him all the way up, and then, it just…. Dropped him. Like he was a doll. A doll…”

“How did you get away?” Sapphire asked, seeming much more convinced of her story now. 

“Through the keep. Ralof and I tore through it like it was nothing. Imperials couldn’t stop us. When we got out the other side, we saw the dragon fly away.” 

“Fleeing?” 

Mera shook her head. “Nothing they did to that dragon hurt it. It was more like…” She looked up, trying to find a word. “He was playing, and it got bored.” 

Brynjolf noted the switch from ‘it’ to ‘he’, but said nothing. The lass was piss drunk, and clearly wasn’t thinking straight. 

She moved, dragging her feet back to her original seat and plopping unceremoniously back into the chair. “I went to Riverwood after that. Ran my ass to Whiterun the next day to warn the Jarl to payback the people who let me into their home after the whole ordeal.” 

Mera slumped, clearly exhausted, and Delvin whistled. “That was quite the story. Certainly worth all the drinks I bought you,” the old Breton laughed. “You’re quite good at telling it.” 

She grinned lazily, “Aw, thanks Delvin.” 

“It’s nice to hear something new for once,” Rune said.

“Yeah, I’m getting real tired of listening to Thrynn talk about that time he bedded the Argonian.” Niruin said as he smirked into his tankard. Thrynn sputtered, and Cynric laughed, and whatever spell Mera had the room under as she told her story was broken as they all dissolved back into their own conversations. 

Brynjolf turned to face her again, finding her head luling slightly to the side. He frowned. “You alright, lass?” 

“‘m just tired.” She murmured, and Delvin shot him a look. 

“I think she might need help getting to bed.” Delvin said, and Brynjolf sighed. 

“Alright I’ll-”

“I can take her, if you’d like,” a voice came from beside him. Etienne stood there, looking nervous and uncomfortable. “I was thinking about heading in anyway. I’ll get her back into the Cistern if you’d like.” 

Brynjolf frowned, and got to his feet. He was taller and broader than Etienne. Even if he did want to pass the lass off, it wouldn’t have made much sense to give her to him. 

“I can walk…” Mera muttered, catching Brynjolf’s attention only for a moment. 

“I think I’ve got this,” Brynjolf told him firmly. “No worries. I’ll get her inside safe. Come on, lass, up you get.” 

He tapped at her shoulder, and with a groan she picked herself up and got to her feet, wobbling slightly. Without waiting for her to get her footing, and insist that she could get there on her own, he put an arm behind her and started to lead her to the Cistern. 

Just out of view from the rest of the Flagon, Mera tripped. Brynjolf moved quickly, catching her before she could face plant into the hard ground, grunting as he lifted her upright. 

“Aw, thanks handsome,” she grinned at him drunkenly, and Brynjolf rolled his eyes. 

“Don’t mention it lass.” 

“Oh, I never will again. That never happened.” 

Brynjolf laughed, pushing the door open to the Cistern and getting her inside. He deposited her on the first bed he came across, letting her down gently. “Get some rest, lass. Hangover or not, we’ll have work for you tomorrow.” 

“Countin’ on it.” she slurred, closing her eyes and breathing heavily. He watched her for a moment before shaking his head and walking back towards the Flagon. 

It just figures that of all the people he’d pick off the street, he’d happen to pick a survivor from Helgen. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As promised, a longer chapter than the last! Mera LIVES for the drama. Telling her story makes it easier to bear.


	4. Chapter 4

Mera dropped silently down the ladder into the Cistern, landing flat on her feet with a soft thud. For the past week and a half, she’d been in Whiterun, running a series of heists for the Guild. She didn’t…. like stealing from people in Whiterun. Well, most of them anyway. Since waking up in Skyrim, Whiterun had been her home. The people there respected her, and there she was, stealing right from under their noses. 

And then there were the Companions. 

She’d been mostly gone for over a month now, spending nearly all her time in Riften doing work with the Guild. She’d come to blows with Njada over it, the other woman’s anger getting the best of her. She’d resented Mera since day one, and while they had a hesitant but mutual respect for each other after Mera had become Harbinger, her unexplained absence had been too much. 

It wasn’t that they weren’t used to her leaving. That wasn’t it. They knew she was the Dragonborn, and that she had other responsibilities outside of the Companions, but whenever she returned she always told them why. 

This time she had been more reluctant to disclose details. 

Aela had broken up the fight before things had gotten too serious. Being near her shield-sister had made the beast inside of her try and claw it’s way out, which could have been dangerous of Njada was still instigating. It left Mera with a bruised face and bruised pride, but it was for the best.

They’d drank together, her and Aela, quietly in the living quarters, eventually being joined by Farkas and Vilkas. 

She’d cried when she told them what she had been doing in Riften. And then she left. 

Her trip weighed heavily on her, and there was nothing she wanted more than to just fall into a bed and sleep, sleep until it was all behind her.

Apparently, that was too much to ask for. 

“Ah, good to see you, lass,” Brynjolf’s familiar voice sounded from nearby. 

Mera faced him, forcing a smile onto her face, but she clung to the shadows.“Likewise, Brynjolf.” 

“Word on the street is that half of Whiterun has had their coffers emptied. Impressive.” 

She wished she could appreciate the compliment. It was meaningful, coming from him, it always was, but all his words did was serve as a reminder of what had occurred during the week and a half she was gone. 

Mera tried to keep up a smile, but it faltered, only for a moment before she said, “Thanks. I’m doing what I can.” 

Brynjolf seemed to catch her hesitation, and he frowned. “Everything alright, lass?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I’m just… tired from the travel I guess.” To accentuate her point, she yawned. 

Brynjolf seemed to accept her response. “Aye. It’s a long trip from here to Whiterun and back.” 

“Exactly,” she slumped, eyeing him nervously. She kept her head ducked low as she moved off the wall. “Now, if you don’t mind.” 

“Hold on a second, lass,” Brynjolf stopped her, grabbing her arm, stopping her from running away. 

Annoyed, she spun, facing him with a scowl. “What?” 

His frown was back, as well as a hint of something else. Anger? “Who gave that to you?” He asked, his free hand going to grasp at her chin and tilt her head back, putting it in the light. 

By now, her bruising had faded, but the skin around her eye was still discolored with a painful yellow tint. 

“What happened?” Brynjolf asked again. 

Mera jerked out of his grip, pulling her arm free and making him release his hold on her face. “It’s nothing, Brynjolf. I dealt with it, okay?” 

He looked over her face, lips pressed firmly together and jaw held tightly. He sighed. “I won’t make you tell me, your secrets are yours to keep. But, if Delvin or Vex are giving you jobs that are turning out to be more than you bargained for, let us know. The Guild doesn’t particularly do jobs that put our members in harm's way. If a client wants fighters, they should hire sell swords, not us.” 

Mera searched him, trying to find something, any hint of malcontent, but all she found was genuine concern. She didn’t like seeing that in his face. It didn’t suit him, and she found herself frowning before she forced her lips up in a smile. 

“Brynjolf, I’m insulted you think I would even get caught in the first place,” she boasted, trying to lighten the mood. 

The ginger scoffed and rolled his eyes, “Maybe I’d stop thinking that if you managed to return unscathed for once.” His voice was teasing, despite its implications, and her smile became a little more genuine. “...Get some sleep, Mera.” 

“Same to you,” she said as she turned from him once more, ready to walk away before she faltered, and glanced over her shoulder. “Brynjolf?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Thanks.” 

She barely caught his smile. “Don’t mention it, lass. Good night.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Important please read! 
> 
> Coming in a few chapters we're going to get to the part where they bang, and since I already wrote their first time (A Warm Bed To Steal Away In) do you want me to repost that story as a chapter in here with potential edits and changes, or just imply that it happened and leave it up to the reader to read the other story? Let me know what you prefer.


	5. Chapter 5

Brynjolf spent most of his time wandering the Cistern. Ever since Goldenglow Mercer constantly spent more time pouring over every possible lead he could find for the mysterious source of the symbol that Mera had found in the safe .

With Mercer so preoccupied, someone had to run the day to day, make sure people were taking jobs and not getting caught. When Guild manners were involved, “someone” usually translated to Brynjolf. So he spent nearly all his time underground, monitoring operations from within the Cistern. 

He let his feet lead him along his usual path around the outskirts of the Cistern, past the safe and the Flagon until he came upon the entry way to their small training area. He entered silently, wanting to be sure he didn't disturb any person who might be focusing inside. 

Surprisingly, the only person he found inside was Mera, all alone in the middle of the room. 

She had both of her blades drawn, her eyes closed as her shoulders moved with the steady rise and fall of her breathing. She moved her arms slowly, deliberately, twirling the glass blades in a way that was practiced. 

And then her movement changed, sudden and strong, she tightened her grip on both handles and lunged forward with her left hand, then sliced with her right. She spun, and crossed both her blades in a movement that could slice open a throat in one clean swipe. 

Breathing more heavily now, she went back to her slow twirling. 

“That's quite the maneuver, lass,” Brynjolf said, speaking up to catch her attention. 

She faltered for a moment, hand slipping, but she righted herself in and instantly. Mera went back to moving slowly in a way he was sure was meant to help maintain balance. “I could have just cut my hand off.”

“Aye, but you didn't.” Brynjolf leaned casually against the wall. “What are you doing?”

“Practicing,” she said as she switched once again to quicker movements, spinning herself and moving closer to one of the dummies. She stabbed it through the heart. 

“From what I've seen, you need more practice with archery and sneaking than with a blade,” 

Mera shrugged. “Then think of this as exercise then. Working with the Guild doesn't give me much excuse to use my swords anymore. Wouldn't want my arms to get weak. Next thing I know I won't be able to handle my own against a cave bear anymore, and who wants that?” 

“Think you're going to be fighting many cave bears?” He asked, a smirk pulling at his lips. She shot him an annoyed look, before it broke into a smile. 

“Oh shut up. You know what I mean.” She rolled her eyes. 

“It's one thing to fight against a dummy, lass. How do you do against the real thing?” He asked, pulling himself off the wall.

“Curious, are you?” Mera's eyes lit up with mischief. “Want to find out?” 

Brynjolf went over to where they kept a few dulled iron blades. He grabbed each of them two swords, walking over to her to hand hers over. “I usually prefer daggers, but these will do.” 

Mera eyed him for a long moment before sheathing her blades. She took both swords from him and spun them, testing their weight.  She raised one eyebrow at him, a cocky smirk he wasn't used to seeing forming on her lips. 

“I feel like this would be over quickly regardless."

“Oh! Throwing insults now, are we?” Brynjolf gripped his blades in both hands, poised to start. 

“I don't say anything I can't back up,” she said, getting into a similar pose. She leaned forward, both arms extended with her blades at her sides.

She swung first. 

Brynjolf wasn’t a warrior. He was a thief, a  _ rogue _ . He was used to sneaking around battles, and he wasn't afraid to stab someone in the back if he had to. There was no honor in this work, especially when it came to life or death situations. 

That didn't mean he was bad with a blade by any means. He brought up his arm quickly, using the blade of his weapon to block her incoming swing. It didn't deter her, not in the slightest, and she used her left arm to come in with a harsh swipe. 

He dodged, jumping back a step so her arm came short of him, blade barely grazing his armor. He moved to the offence, coming in hard with both his blades whistling through the air.

Mera ducked, getting down low while his body was forced to continue with his swing, caught too far into the movement of it. She slid to the side, trying to get behind him, but there was no way Brynjolf could allow that. 

He spun, taking another swipe, but the lass parried to the right, getting out of his each. She was lighter, quicker than him. 

“Having fun, Brynjolf?” She taunted, jumping back a step to circle around him. 

He laughed breathlessly, “You know it.” 

He swung. She jumped back. He tried to counter, she moved out of the way. He growled out his frustration. She was too damn fast. But, Brynjolf realized, he had the weight advantage. 

As she moved to try and swing at him once more, he went in, getting nicked by the blade in the side but successfully hitting her with his weight. She hadn’t been expecting it, and she stumbled, and with a hit to her legs, he got her to the floor. 

Brynjolf was ready to get down, put the blade at her neck so they could call it, but before he could, she forced herself up, rocking herself forward to counter the weight of her falling back. Swinger her legs, she knocked them into his, forcing him down onto the ground hard. He fumbled trying to catch himself, and before he could recover, a solid weight laid him back down. 

Mera swiveled, using the momentum to force herself up and over until she was straddling his waist, pinning him and bringing both her swords to hover just below his chin. Brynjolf released his blades and held his hands flat on either side of his head in surrender. 

They were both breathing heavily, chests heaving, and Brynjolf could see the sweat that formed on her brow. Her eyes were wide, pupils blown open as she looked down at her with a grin on her face that made her look wild. His head spun with the adrenaline, but he could feel himself smiling too. In a sluggish movement, Mera lowered her blades, still looking down at him. 

And then she laughed. The sound was breathless, but lighthearted just the same. He laughed too, chuckling from under here as she shook her head and finally swung her leg so she was off of him. Getting to her feet, she reached down and offered him a hand. Brynjolf accepted it, and let her hoist him up. 

“Gotta say, I wasn’t quite expecting that,” Brynjolf said, half bent over as he still labored to catch his breath. 

Her grin turned into a smirk. “Maybe I should have mentioned that I trained with the Companions.” 

He laughed again, shaking his head. “Aye, that would have been good to know.” 

“Still, I’m impressed. You nearly got me there for a second,” 

“Good to know,” Brynjolf said as he looked her over. 

Mera wiped the sweat off of her forehead with a piece of cloth, and then lifted her hair up and off her neck so it could cool. “I’d love to spar again sometime, if you’re up for it.” 

“That so?” 

“Mhm. You said so yourself. Slicing dummies is nothing like the real thing. It’s a good way to stay in shape,” she explained as she rolled her shoulders and stretched her neck to either side. 

“I might take you up on that sometime, lass,” Brynjolf waved her in his direction, “But for now, I think I need a drink after that, don’t you?” 

Another easy grin split across her face. “Oh absolutely.” She jogged over to him, standing at his side. Playfully, she bumped him with her hip before continuing down the short hall. “I’m going to tell Delvin that I managed to pin you.” 

Brynjolf scowled. “Oh no you don’t. We’re going to keep very quiet about that part.”

“I don’t know, I’m pretty fond of the bragging rights it gives me…” 

“I’ll buy your drink.” 

“Bribery! You think that will work on me?” She exclaimed, turning to face him and walking backwards, step by step. 

“Yes.” 

“Hm. Maybe you’re right, maybe you aren’t. We’ll just have to see when we get there, won’t we?” 

“You’re lucky you’re worth the trouble it is to keep you around.” 

Mera laughed, the sound echoing around the Cistern in a way that was almost melodic. She held the door to the Flagon open for him. He rolled his eyes and stepped past her.

Like he’d predicted, she didn’t say a thing to Delvin except for hello. He ordered two drinks from Vekel, who eyed him curiously.  Brynjolf realized he must have looked like a mess, sweating and ruffled. He responded to the look with a simple shrug, taking both the bottles and walking to sit with Mera at her table. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just dudes being pals.   
> Nothing like a little platonic pinning am I right my guy


	6. Chapter 6

Mera groaned as she practically fell down the ladder into the Cistern, stumbling on her feet as she connected with the solid ground. In a foolish attempt to get on the Jarl’s good side (to give herself an easier time getting away with things), she’d been trekking across the Rift in an effort to shut down the skooma trading ring that’d been plaguing the citizens of Riften. She’d succeeded. And then she bought a house. 

Unfortunately, it was unfurnished, so it wouldn’t suffice as a crash pad despite the fact that she wasn’t sure she even had the energy to make it down the ladder, let alone into a bed. 

What made things worse was that it was starting to get cold.  Comparably, Riften was much warmer than cities like Windhelm or Dawnstar, but during the winter months, snow fell over the soft warm colors of the Rift. On the last day of Frost Fall, all of Skyrim felt the chill. 

The Cistern, being wet and underground, was cold. All year round it kept a chill, and during the heat of the summer, she imagined it would be nice, but now, slipping into the Cistern had her nose going numb. A cloud left her mouth as she breathed. 

_ Like a dragon _ . 

The thought had her chuckling under her breath. 

Mera considered herself luckily to be a Nord. Frost magics (therefore frost dragons) had a lesser effect on her, and she could survive in the most bitter cold. Survive, being the key word. That did not mean it was comfortable. She shuffled through the Cistern, passing Sapphire on her way to a bed. 

“Mera,” Sapphire nodded at her. “You’ve been gone a few days. How are things?” 

“Cold.” Mera muttered, snatching a blanket off a bed and wrapping it around her shoulders. 

“Yeah, I’m considering getting a bed at the Bee and Barb for the night. Keerava keeps the place warm.” 

“Sapphire you can’t go up top,” Cynric spoke dramatically, grabbing for her hand and pulling her close. “Who’s going to keep me warm?” 

Sapphire got spun into him, and she rolled her eyes before elbowing him in the stomach so he let go. “I’m sure you’ll feel very warm when I rip out your throat.” 

Mera got the feeling this was a regular conversation. 

Sapphire walked back to Mera, leaning on the wall next to her. “Let me give you some sisterly advice,” she leaned closer, and caught Mera’s full attention. “A lot of the Guild gets…  _ touchy  _ during the winter. It’s not always a bad thing. Thrynn and Rune sleeping back to back, you know,” she waved a hand beside her head, as if clearing the air. “Sharing body heat is an easy way to keep your toes down here, if you catch my meaning. So my advice to you is to either find someone your comfortable buddying up with or plan to spend a lot of coin on beds above ground.” 

“Can I let you in on a secret, Sapph?” Mera grabbed the other girl by the wrist and pulled her aside, keeping the blanket wrapped tightly around her as they moved to the small outcove by the entrance. “I already have,” she said as she pulled out her brand new key to Honeyside. 

Sapphires mouth opened in shock, and then she started laughing. “Is that what I think it is?” 

Mera nodded, tucking it back into her pocket. “I bought Honeyside today,”

“You’ve only been here for what, a month and a half? And you can afford a house?” 

“I wasn’t  _ born  _ a month and a half ago. And you know me, I work fast.” 

“Well then, you’ll be just fine and cozy above ground once the blunt of winter hits.” 

“Once it gets furnished,” Mera sighed. “I didn’t quite have the coin to put forward on complete furnishings, but in a week it should have a bed and a kitchen which is all that really matters.” 

“Until then, you’ll either have to cozy up or start stealing blankets.” Sapphire said, and Mera found herself feeling playful. 

Letting the blanket hang on her shoulders, she reached out with both her arms to the woman standing in front of her. She draped her arms over her shoulders, wrapping them loosely behind her neck and she purred, lowering her voice into a husky tone. “Why don’t we get cozy and ditch those boys?” She asked, barely able to hold back her grin. 

Sapphire laughed, rolling her eyes and putting her hands on either side of Mera’s wasit. “Should I ask Vex to join us, too? I can just see Delvin’s face…” 

“Am I interrupting something?” A confused, amused voice asked from behind her, and Mera nearly jumped out of her skin. 

“Damn  _ sneak _ ,” she cursed him, letting Sapphire go so she could adjust the blanket around her and glare at him. “You are interrupting something, yes. Sapphire and I were just discussing inviting Vex to stay warm with us.” She winked at Brynjolf, and the older man chuckled. 

“Is that so?” He leaned against the wall, looking utterly unbothered by the cold as his breath clouded in front of him. “So then what’s this I hear about Honeyside, then?” 

“Brynjolf!” Mera admonished. “Have you been eavesdropping?” 

“I’d hardly call it eavesdropping with how loud you two were being. For as good as a thief you are, lass, I thought you’d be better at keeping quiet. It’s like you’re used to going around shouting.” 

Ignoring how spot on Brynjolf actually was, she rolled her eyes. “Still, it’s rude, you know, to listen when two ladies are speaking  _ privately _ .” 

“It might change your opinion then to know I didn’t overhear you, and I heard it from Maven just an hour ago.” 

“Damn,” Mera cursed as Brynjolf smirked. 

“I’ll leave you to your spat,” Sapphire rolled her eyes, “and don’t forget what I said about keeping warm,” the other woman winked at her, gesturing at Brynjolf from behind his back as she walked away. Mera did her best to keep her face neutral. 

“So Maven spilled on me?” Mera inquired, going to lean against the wall next to Brynjolf and regretting it immediately. The cold seeped right through her blanket, and into her back. She jumped off the wall as if it burned her, frowning. 

“I had heard a rumor that someone purchased the property today, and before I added the property in the books as a Guild mark, I inquired with Maven to see who our new resident might be. When she told me it was  _ you  _ who bought the property well, I can’t say I wasn’t surprised.” He said, looking down at her with one eyebrow quirked. 

Mera shrugged. “I accumulate a lot of stuff. Junk, really, but I have been called a hoarder… anyway, it seemed like a good investment of the all the gold I’ve made. No use making money if you aren’t going to use it, right?” 

“A good a point as any,” Brynjolf agreed. 

If she had been honest, parting with the coin was difficult for her. In the past several months, she stopped wanting to sell things like gems and jewellery, or give up her gold unless strictly necessary. She preferred to see her wealth, laid out before her so she could admire. 

_ Like a dragon _ . 

The thought from before repeated itself, but this time she was much less amused. 

“... How do you even stand it down here. Nord blood or not, it's freezing,” she muttered, wrapping herself up tighter to distract from her thoughts. 

“Personally, I prefer many, many blankets. Nothing better than a set of warm furs to keep you warm. It works for weather like this, but when the water in the Cistern starts to freeze, I’m not above sharing body heat or spending a night or two topside.” He explained, looking around the Cistern. 

“So Sapphire wasn't kidding about the whole bed buddy thing,” she pointed out, and Brynjolf nodded. 

“Pushing two beds together and sleeping back to back can be very useful on bitter nights. Some even share, but that's for those of us who are much more comfortable with the… physicality of it all.” 

“And you're not.” 

“I could be. But I don't see much of a reason for it myself when I can just find a warm bed above ground to steal away in.” His grin when he looked at her had her flushing, and Mera felt a sudden debt to the cold for keeping her cheeks rosy and disguising the blush. “I anticipate you'll become very popular once word gets out that you bought a house in the city. The only other Guild member with one is Mercer, and Maven gave it to him. You must have pulled some strings to get that, lass.”

“You don't know the half of it. I’ve been running favors for the Jarl all week. Good news is she'll be a lot more likely to be more… lenient with me now that I own property in her city, if you catch my drift.” 

“Clever lass,” Brynjolf said, voice low. “You're learning fast. Never hurts to have connections in high places.” 

“Don't I know it,” she said with a shiver. She looked up at Brynjolf for a long moment, considering, before shrugging. Throwing caution to the wind, she pressed her side against his. 

He looked startled for a moment, and she felt him jump against her, but then she heard his tired sigh. “Are you sure you're a Nord, lass?” He asked as he put an arm around her shoulder. “Aye, it's cold but it's not that cold.” 

“Maybe I have some Imperial in me, who knows. And I know it's not  _ that _ cold but I'm  _ uncomfortable _ and I've had a very long day so excuse me for wanting to be warm.” She huffed, pushing closer into him. 

A month ago she would never had tried something so bold with him, but that was then. Now, he'd helped her into bed when she was drunk and he'd spared with her to keep her on her toes. Leaning up against him for warmth was hardly anything too out of reach. 

Not to mention he was warm, even though his Guild armor, pressing up against him helped bring some heat back to her bones. Her toes, her fingers, her nose, they all still ached from the cold but her body, that was warm. 

She felt his breath against her skin and she went rigid from the sudden and unexpected closeness. His voice was low, barely above a whisper as he spoke into her ear. “Do you think I’m warm, lass?” 

Heat rushed to her face. What was  _ that _ ? Head spinning, she forced herself to react, bringing her arms up and pushing him, trying to keep things playful to disguise how shocked she actually was. “No, you’re cold. A cold, mean, horrible thief,” she muttered, scowling at him as he had the nerve to wink back at her. 

“And don’t you forget it.” 

Suddenly she didn’t feel all that cold anymore. 

She rolled her eyes, “I’m going to go lay down. Have fun being cold.” 

Mera turned on her heel and walked away, aiming for the first bed available. She felt his eyes burning into the back of her head the entire time. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> henlo u stinky readers 
> 
> I bring you the flirts


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IMPORTANT: If you haven't read A Warm Bed to Steal Away In, you really really should! That is what happens at the end of this chapter, and missing that story would result in missing a chunk of this one!

After nearly forty years living in Skyrim, and over twenty years of lurking around the Ratway, Brynjolf knew what to expect of winters by now. He hadn’t been kidding when he explained to Mera how things usually went down in the Cistern during the colder months. It was like he had said. You either partnered up with someone, or you went uptop. 

Typically, Brynjolf liked to do both. 

There were always travelers in Riften, usually on their way to some bigger and better place than the small waterlogged capital, but it was often that they stayed for a night. In years past, Brynjolf had let himself indulge in the company of travelers, young women who were pulled in by his accent, his scars, his eyes. Whatever it was that drew them to him, he would gladly take them, throwing coin Keerava’s way to get them a room and then stealing it back from the woman’s clothes before they went their separate ways. 

Usually, his acts of intimacy were exclusive to these brief encounters during the colder, winter months, and he sought company less frequently in the sticky heat that summer brought. A few times in the many, many years he’d been in the Guild, he indulged himself in an attraction to a fellow thief. Those flings were short lived, especially with the decline of the Guild, when numbers started to dwindle. 

The one exception to this being his brief affair with Tonilia. Thinking of it, he laughed softly to himself. Their sex was like a business transaction, mutually beneficial to both parties. And it expired like a contact neither one of them wished to renew as soon as Vekel entered the picture. Tonilia was, like all thieves, a practical minded woman with all end goals pointing towards the most amount of gold. They had a mutual understanding, and thanks to that, the only remains of their affair were quiet, fading rumors that circulated around the Guild, dying like a whisper in the wind. 

Brynjolf hadn't attempted to bed anyone else in the Guild since then, not that there were very many choices. With Tonilia out of the picture, it only left for Vex and Sapphire, neither of whom he saw in any type of sexual way. Vex was much more Delvin’s type anyway. 

But now things were different. 

When he picked Mera off the street, she needed something from him and he needed a job done. There was just something in her eyes, a certain fire that he knew he could put to good use, with the right training. 

After she got caught simply trying to plant a ring, he offered her a place despite it, because he saw a potential to get better. And she did. 

Perhaps she practiced during that long unexplained break between when he first saw her and when she showed at the Ragged Flagon again. Or maybe the lass was just lucky. Whatever it was, now she was a damned good thief, and Brynjolf walked around the Guild with his head high knowing he was the one to bring her in. Vekel even referred to her as his protegee. His. 

Brynjolf would be lying if he said it didn't feel good. 

He supposed it made sense that with the weather getting colder, she started to catch his eye more than she had before. 

He'd always thought she was attractive, he supposed. But Brynjolf thought a lot of women were attractive. Vex was attractive. Sapphire was attractive. That didn't mean he wanted to sleep with them. And originally, it'd been much the same with Mera as well. 

He was much more interested in watching the lass work and go from a clumsy first time thief to what he would even venture to call an artist. He had taken it upon himself to act as a sort of mentor for the girl, and she was practically a girl, ten years younger than him, at least. But through that mentorship, he’d like to think that he was more than just a superior to her now. That they were friends. 

And there was hardly anything wrong with getting  _ close  _ with friends, was there? 

Brynjolf was testing the waters. He let himself get closer to her, physically, than strictly necessary. Lingering touches, arm around her shoulder, hand at the small of her back. He was always careful; he didn’t want to seem pushy or insistent. Over everything else, Mera was a friend, and the idea of making her uncomfortable with his advances sat like a heavy stone in the pit of his stomach. 

But gods did he want her. The thought had hit him like a ton of bricks the third time they sparred, the first time Brynjolf had actually won. 

He'd managed to get her off her feet and he was ready that time, and knew to move to avoid her legs knocking his out from under him. He got on top of her, pinning her much the same way she pinned him the first time they danced. 

And when she looked up at him, flushed face, mouth parted to make way for her heavy pants, and he felt her hips, smaller than his but by no means delicate, between his thighs, Brynjolf couldn't deny the rush of arousal that struck him as suddenly as a summer storm. 

He wanted her under him, over him, pinned to a wall and driven mad by him. 

Then again she was so fiery. Maybe he would be driven mad by her. 

The thought put a wiry smile on his lips. 

It was going to be cold tonight. Colder than it's been if the day time temperatures were any indication. 

Mera was out on a local job. He was pretty sure Delvin had sent her just outside the city, to one of the cozy little farms to nab a jewel. Her home, Honeyside, should be vacant. The place had finally gotten a bed just a few days before, and Mera had spent nearly every night there since, reveling in the privacy it granted her. 

Perhaps he could pay her a visit. Or at least, pay Honeyside a visit. 

* * *

 

It took him four picks to get the door open. Brynjolf was impressed. Normally, he considered even breaking one pick to be disgraceful. Breaking three nearly never happened, not to someone as experienced as he was. 

The lass must have spent a lot of coin to make sure no one got in without her saying so. That had him pausing. This was an invasion of Mera’s space. She could potentially be very, very angry with him for doing this. And then what? He wouldn't get the chance to bed her, for starters. What was worse is that he could lose someone who was quickly becoming a dear friend.

Was it worth it? 

He thought of the way they teased each other. How they poked fun and tried to rial each other up. 

No, he decided. It would be fine. It was fine. 

Brynjolf closed the door quietly behind him. Light from the setting sun still filtered in through the windows, illuminating the otherwise dark home. If he was right, there was still time before Mera returned, so Brynjolf left his crouched position and stood tall in the doorway of her home. 

It’d been years since he’d stepped foot in Honeyside. The last owners moved out ages ago, leaving the home empty and free of any possible loot. No sense for a thief to enter if there is nothing to steal. Now, however, it was very different. 

Brynjolf whistled lowly. Years of thieving trained his eyes to seek out anything shiny, and in Honeyside there was plenty to be distracted by. Gems and jewelry were haphazardly strewn across multiple surfaces, as if the second she got the house she’d emptied her pockets with the intent of organizing later. 

Or maybe she just liked looking at her winnings. Brynjolf certainly did. 

He wondered how much, if any, of her collection was honestly earned, or if she’d just picked the lot of it up through heists with the Guild and private ventures. Either way, he felt a tinge of pride in his chest. All this from the lass who couldn’t even plant a ring in someone’s pocket. She’d come far. He liked to believe he might have influenced that. 

A bowl of gems, many of which were flawless, sat on a dresser, and he scooped them up and into his hand, letting a garnet fall between his fingers. It was foolish to keep this much wealth out in the open in a city full of thieves, especially in a home that hadn’t even been marked by the Guild yet. He made a note to remind her to do so as he slipped the jewels into his pocket, intent on making a point. 

Turning his head, he saw the stairs leading down into a lower level of the home. A door sat at the bottom, closed tightly, and he’d bet every coin he carried on him that it was locked. He turned his body slowly, wondering what the lass could possibly have hidden down there…

A sound at the door distracted him from his curiosity. He turned his attention back to the table, trying to think quickly as to the best way to present himself when she walked inside, and he grabbed the troll skull off the shelf, holding it in his hands just in time for the door to swing open. 

Her face said it all. Surprise, anger, annoyance, curiosity. He let a smirk pull onto his lips as he looked at her. This was going to be  _ fun. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE If you haven't read A Warm Bed to Steal Away In, now is you chance! this is where it fits in chronologically into this story! Everything after this point will take place after that other fic. 
> 
> Anyway, hope you like the chapter! I may or may not be working on a short fic involving Daedra so theres that. I won't tell you which one will make an appearance, but the Prince in question is a favorite of mine.


	8. Chapter 8

When Mera woke up Brynjolf was gone and the side of the bed he’d fallen asleep on was cold. She was cold. She stretched, pushing her arms high above her head, arching her back and groaning as her shoulders popped and her spine cracked. Everything ached, but in a way that had her grinning tiredly up at the ceiling. 

When was the last time she’d been fucked? 

For a moment she tried to remember, before deciding that she didn’t want to think on it, shaking her head to force the thought from her head. There was no use thinking on the past. That didn’t affect how she felt now. 

Mera got out of bed, hissing as the cold air hit her bare skin, goosebumps rising on her flesh as she rushed to get dressed, resisting the urge to crawl back into her furs and call it a day. She had  _ work  _ to do. The Guild always needed her to do jobs, and if Delvin was right, they were really close to pulling Whiterun back into their area of influence. It was exciting, knowing that her work was having this direct of an impact on an organization that had been falling for years. 

Being a smaller scale hero was much more her thing. 

With her Guild leathers strapped securely to her body, hugging her in a way she’d learned to feel comfortable in, Mera grabbed an apple off her table and grabbed the handle of her door. 

Then she paused. 

There was a small nagging anxiety that tugged at her stomach, making her feel uneasy and uncomfortable in her skin. She couldn’t help but wonder if things would be weird or… different between her and Brynjolf after the events of last night. Could she look at him without thinking of him, pinning her by her wrists and watching her squirm? 

Maybe this was a mistake. 

She frowned, roughly shaking her head in an attempt to rattle herself out of her self pity. She had work to do. She couldn’t afford to let this affect it. The only way to know how things would be was to go and find out for herself. 

So she did. 

It was late morning by the time she reached the Flagon, sliding into a seat across from Delvin's with a large grin on her face. 

“Got any jobs for me Delvin?” She asked with a grin. 

“I've always got jobs for you,” he grinned right back, taking a bite out of a bright red apple. “But not right now.” 

Mera pouted, leaning forward. “What? Why not?” 

“Mercer and Brynjolf are looking for you. Something about a big job they want to pass your way.” 

Mera managed not to blush at the mention of Brynjolf. “Did they say what it was?” She asked with furrowed brows. 

Delvin shrugged. “Not my place to ask. I'd run on in and see them right away, though. Mercer isn't a patient man.” 

Mera nodded, rising out of her chair and heading to the secret door to the Cistern without hesitation. The fact that Mercer specifically asked for her was… well, she didn’t know what it was. She’d barely spoken to the man since her return from Honeyglow. He barely even looked at her if she walked by. For him to ask for her by name was surprising, and not in the way she liked. 

She saw both Brynjolf and Mercer leaning over the Guild Master’s desk and she felt her neck flush. Brynjolf was a powerful, high ranking member of the Guild, and it was hard to forget that, but never was it so obvious than when he worked side by side with Mercer. Something about the attitude of the Guild Master hardened Brynjolf, made his jaw clench and his eyes darken. He was all business, and damn her to Oblivion if she wasn’t attracted to that. 

Brynjolf lifted his head, looking her way with those hard eyes and she smiled at him, feeling heat touch at her neck, but he didn’t smile back. She let the grin slip from her lips, anxiety bubbling in her stomach instead. She thought of last night, of Brynjolf over her, touching her, fucking her, and she couldn’t help but wonder if it had been a mistake. The Nord didn’t even seem happy to see her. 

“Ah, lass, just who we’ve been looking for,” he greeted when she got close enough, straightening out and facing her fully. She found it hard to meet his eyes. 

“And it’s about time,” Mercer’s harsher voice pulled her attention. The older man still stood hunched over his desk. “This job is important and we don’t have time to waste.” 

“Have you discovered who bought Goldenglow?” Mera asked, but she immediately regretted it when she saw Brynjolf frown frown out of the corner of her eye and Mercer fix his eyes on her. 

“No, but we’re getting close,” he said with a sense of finality. The message was clear: don’t ask again. 

It was funny. Mera had faced daedra, dragons, thalmor and foresworn. She’d come across werewolves and vampires, necromancers and bandit chiefs. And yet, when Mercer leveled his gaze with hers, she feared him. 

Mera nodded with a thick swallow. “Alright, then what’s the job.” 

“Maven has a job she needs done yesterday.” Mercer started and Brynjolf chimed in. 

“And she’s asked for you. Specifically.” 

“Me? Why would she-” 

Mercer cut her off. “Don’t ask questions. It’s not your job to ask why Maven Black-Briar wants something. It’s your job to get it done without any complications. Do you understand me?” There was that look again, the one that screamed death. 

Mera nodded and grit her teeth. She hated that he made her feel afraid. “Yes Mercer, I understand.” 

“Good. Now, I don’t want to see you back here until the job’s done. So get going.” He dismissed her with a lazy wave of his hand as he turned his attention back to his books. 

Mera knew not to expect more from the Guild Master, and she nodded before walking away, and she kept moving even when she heard footsteps behind her. It wasn’t until she was in the more private area where the ladder out of the Cistern rested that she stopped and turn to face the thief that had followed her. 

“What is it?” she asked, looking up into Brynjolf’s emerald eyes and searching for any clue as to what he was feeling. All she found was worry. 

“I just wanted to see you off,” his eyes moved slowly across her face, going from her eyes to her lips, then back to her eyes again. “Be careful with Maven, lass. Do the job quick, do it right, and don’t disappoint her.”

Mera let a wisp of a teasing smile pull at her lip. “Worried about me, are you?” 

Brynjolf returned her smile with a half smirk of his own. “Me? Worried about you? No, never. I’ve seen you spar. I’m more concerned about whatever poor sap Maven’s going to send you after.” 

Mera laughed, the sound light as it left her lips, and she caught Brynjolf looking at them again. “I’ll see you soon, Brynjolf.” 

“Aye, see you soon, lass. Keep safe.” 

As Mera climbed up the later and into the graveyard, she couldn’t help but feel relieved. Maybe she didn’t ruin things after all. Maybe they’d be okay. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update! Hope you like it! From here on out things are gonna be fun. I'm thinking of bumping the rating so explicit tbh. I wanna write some SMUT okay.


	9. Chapter 9

Mera cursed to herself as she treked her way through the Ratway. Sure, she could have used the Cistern entrance, but her feet had carried her to the lower docs before she could considered that option. She held her left hand in her right, hissing as she pressed at the ugly red skeever bite that marred her flesh. It had healed a bit during her journey from Whiterun back to Riften, but it was still ugly. She was damn lucky she was a werewolf. Otherwise she would have contracted something nasty trying to clear the pests out of the meadery for sure. 

It wasn’t that the skeevers were particularly difficult to kill - no more so than your average wolf - but they had the numbers to put up a real difficult fight. Throw in the bat-shit crazy hermit who was apparently an expert mage into the mix, and she was lucky one solid bite to the hand was all that had gone wrong. She’d kept it hidden when talking with Maven Black-Briar and accepting her payment. No need for the woman to think she was filthier than the average sewer dwelling thief.

Maven… unsettled her. She admired the woman for her power and the hold she had on the Guild, the Dark Brotherhood, and all of the Rift. But she didn’t trust the woman as far as she could throw her, for obvious reasons. For now, Mera had to be satisfied knowing that she did a good enough job to keep the matriarch of the Black-Briar family appease as she finally opened the door to the Ragged Flagon. 

Mera nodded at Dirge, who nodded respectfully back at her as she passed him by and headed straight to Vekel the Man. She dug into her pocket and placed a few coins on the counter, and without her needing to ask he put a bottle of Black-Briar reserve in front of her. She swiped it up with her good hand in a fluid movement.

“I don’t know what you did,” Vekel started conversationally as Mera pulled the cork from the bottle with her teeth, “but Maven was down here the other day looking happier than I’ve ever seen her. The woman was smiling and everything. Nice going.” 

Mera accepted the compliment with a cheeky smile. “Just doing my job.”

“Well keep doing it. Things are looking up around here.” 

Her smile was much more genuine when she turned away. It felt good to be making waves. Suddenly the bite on her hand didn’t bother her nearly as much as before. 

She slid into a seat across from Delvin and the old thief looked up with one of his crooked grins. “Mera, good to see you.”

“Delvin,” She greated, taking a long drink from the bottle before letting it come down hard on the table. “I’m gonna head in and give Mercer what I found at Horningbrew, but I wanted to show you what I found first.”

“Oh?” He quirked a brow, looking amused. “And what might that be?” 

From a sack she had tied to her hip, Mera removed a golden decanter. “I saw it and couldn’t help but think that I knew a certain old Breton who would love to buy it.” 

Delvin’s eyes went wide as he appraised the item. “My, my, I’ve been looking for something like this. I’d be glad to take it off your hands. Give me a moment.” 

Delvin disappeared into a back room, where the Guild had a smaller, hidden safe that was used for storing smaller amounts of gold, meant for paying out simpler jobs. There was never more than a thousand gold in there at once, but it was perfect for times like this. 

He returned with two large bags of coin, placing them on the table. “This should cover it.” 

“Pleasure doing business with you, as always,” She pulled the coin towards her as Delvin moved the decanter towards him, admiring it in the candle light of the Flagon. She took another long drink, wanting to hurry up and finish it before she went inside. 

“You were gone longer than I thought you’d be,” Delvin remarked. There wasn’t judgement in his tone, but a hint of curiosity. “I’d worried you’d got caught working that job for Maven. Would have thought you were had she not come down here grinning the other day when she got the news of your success.” 

Mera held the bottle to her lips, looking at him as she sipped. She weighed her options, wondering exactly what she should tell him. The truth was that she’d run a quick job within Whiterun for the Companions when she was there, but she couldn’t exactly tell a thief that. 

Instead, she shrugged. “I lived in Whiterun for a long time. I’ve got a lot of friends there, people know me. When I roll into town, I always try and stay a bit longer. That way if things go missing it’s not as… suspicious.” 

Delvin chuckled quietly. “I didn’t realize you were such a big to do outside of Riften,” 

Mera laughed, too, leaning in over the table. “I’ll let you in on a little secret if you promise to keep it between us.” 

He quirked an eyebrow and leaned in, clearly amused. 

“I’m Thane in Whiterun,” she whispered before leaning out and taking another drink, watching his reaction. 

The old man laughed, shaking his head. “Mera…” 

“Shh. I can’t have that ruining my reputation down here! Last thing I need is Cynric going around calling me a jarl’s pet.” 

“Your secret’s safe with me, Thane,” Delvin teased and she scowled. 

She finished her drink with one last swig, feeling it warm her from the inside and rush pleasantly to her head. It had been late when she arrived, and more people were starting to filter in from the Cistern to get a drink. Mera groaned aloud and dragged herself to her feet. “I’d better head in before Mercer leaves. Or finds out I stopped to have a drink before I gave him this.” 

“Well he won’t hear it from me,” Delvin smirked. 

“What would I do without you?”

“You’d be poor and out of work.” 

“That’s a bit of an exaggeration!” She laughed as she walked backwards out of the Flagon and towards the Cistern door. She could hear Delvin’s laugh even as she left the room.

She shook her head, smiling as she pulled the door closed, only to have it wiped off her face and replaced with shock as she came face to face with a chest. 

“Shit!” She cursed, stumbling back and into the door. 

Looking up, she saw an equally surprised Brynjolf, though he managed to clear the look off his face for his usual cool atmosphere before she even grasped onto what happened. “Good to see you, lass. I hadn’t heard you’d come in.” 

A light flush brightened her cheeks and she nodded. “Yeah, I just came in,” She lifted up one hand, holding the slip of paper she'd gotten from Horningbrew. “I was just headed to get this to Mercer. Maven said she wanted him to take a look at it.” 

Brynjolf took the note from her gently and pocketed it. “Mercer's left for the night. I can get it to him tomorrow. Besides,” he leaned in, invading her space. “You smell like mead, lass. Might not want to go to the boss like that.” 

He laughed lowly as she huffed and put her hands on his chest, pushing him gently away. Bynjolf stumbled back a half step, allowing her to move him with ease before he paused, and she felt his large hand circle around her wrist. “What happened?” 

It was the bite. He looked at it with a heavy frown and Mera sighed. “Part of Maven's plan involved some serious extermination. I don't think I've ever seen so many damn skeevers. Mostly it was easy, but one got in a lucky bite.” 

Brynjolf pulled a face when she mentioned what caused it, but he didn't shove her hand away like most would. Instead he looked closer, checking the healing would. “You got it treated? Those things cary nasty diseases. 

Mera nodded. “I'm not incapable of caring for myself, you know. I can lace my own bracers and everything.” Without much force, she pulled her hand from his grip and he let her go easily. 

“I know you can,” he said, his voice low and she wanted nothing more than to leave, flee and hide away in Honeyside.

“I… I’m going to go. I’ve been traveling all day and I just… I’m exhausted,” she tripped over her words as she skated around him. “I’ll see you tomorrow, alright?” 

“Tomorrow,” his eyes burned her as he watched. “Keep warm, lass.” 

As if he summoned it into existence, her face filled with heat as she turned and practically ran out towards the ladder leading out of the Guild. Outside it'd started raining, and she paused, leaning her back against the stone of the grave. Looking up, she let the water hit her face, washing over her. It was bitter cold, hitting her with a biting sting, but she wanted it. Needed it. 

Opening her eyes, she looked up into the clouded night and whispered. 

“Fuck.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just a filler chapter really. I've been skipping over the main quests because im sure ya'll have read a thousand fics that walk through through the whole questline as well as played the questline yourself and im not really about writing them. I'll put more in when I get to the more serious stuff but for now it's fun


	10. Important Notice

I haven't updated this story in a while, since the Will of Daedra has taken most of my attention away. As that story draws to a close, I'm left with a couple of options, and something that's been going through my mind is a complete overhaul of this story. I'm considering rewriting it in a completely different way, shifting the focus because I'm not realizing I'm really unhappy with the way I've been portraying Mera and her arc in this story. Originally, when I created this, it was pretty much going to be a smut dump until ya'll started showing so much interest in the actual story. I'd like to start fresh. 

 

What do you guys think? Would you like to see a redo of this? Let me know in the comments. Or, message me on my tumblr: https://paar-pahlok.tumblr.com and tell me what you think.


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